


hurry home

by RedLipped



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, i'm sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLipped/pseuds/RedLipped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of a planned attack, Michael gets hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hurry home

**Author's Note:**

> best read if paired with [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AF3Ikrc-tPI).

“Michael? Michael, can you hear me? _Michael!_ ”

The words crackle through his left ear, sending sparks down his spine. Panic seeps into his brain as a thin layer of sweat cools on his skin, exposed to the cold night air. Slowly but surely he returns to consciousness, feeling the damp ground beneath him as it soils the clothes on his back. _It wasn't raining today,_ he remembers. The pavement is stained red.

As his mind is dragged back into reality, his eyes scan the area around him, processing his present circumstances in a painfully slow manner. He is right behind a large cement block and a few inches away from his right hand lies a combat rifle. He is lying on his back, staring up at the cloudy night sky. Occasional bullets whiz overhead as he watches under safety of the small cover.

Everything is agonizingly loud yet uncomfortably diluted, as if he were listening to the sounds of war while submerged in the ocean. Each abrupt noise in the darkness sends a sharp pain through his head and shivers down his spine. They sound so distant, however, that he feels somewhat safe.

The sounds of shouting and explosions and bullets fade into the background compared to the annoying crackle filling his head. A device of some kind is nestled in his ear. He wants to grab at the object and make it stop screaming at him but his arms are frozen, locked in their position on the ground beside his body.

His torturously slow brain finally catches up with the voice infiltrating his head.

“Oh _God, please_ answer me, Michael!”

He chokes out a reply, “I'm here, Gavin.”

The whistle of a relieved sigh is audible through the earpiece.

“Are you okay, boy? Ryan said you went down and then you wouldn't answer me and I panicked.” Gavin's thick accent is familiar and soothing like a soft blanket over his brain.

“I'm alright. I've been better,” he pauses to breathe sharply, “but I'm alright.”

“Are you bleeding? Are you hurt?”

Michael attempts to lift his head and assess his body for injuries but once again, he's frozen in place. Breathing hurts. The rise and fall of his chest is accompanied by searing pain. He inhales and chokes, spluttering out a wet cough that leaves his lips tinged with dark red blood. He licks his lips and his mouth is filled with the metallic aftertaste.

“I can't move, Gavin.”

The response he receives is a shaky exhale. He finds solace in the incessant mechanical crackle coming from within his ear.

“You're gonna be okay, Michael. It's almost over,” Gavin speaks softly.

 _It's almost over._ “I know,” Michael murmurs.

On the other side of the ear piece, Gavin's hands shake. He attempts to hold them steady, typing away at his keyboard wildly in a search for what he needs. The building surveillance system appears on his screen and he rapidly flicks through the available camera options with a racing heart. Inside the building, the hallways are all empty. It's an uncomfortable reminder that the typical population that would occupy the inside has instead progressed outside. With another few clacks of the keyboard, he switches over to the external security cameras.

In the first camera, he can faintly see the pixelated form of Ryan hunched behind a shipping crate. Bullets chip the wood on crates behind him but the masked man is unharmed, reloading his assault gun and taking the meticulously timed opportunities to leave cover and fire.

Swapping to the next camera, he can see both Ray and Jack, hunched behind cement blocks and blindfiring overhead. They all have similar techniques, practised and drilled into their minds after years of working together. Gavin feels confident switching away from the view of them.

As he swaps to the next camera, he leaps in his seat as a bright orange explosion meets his eyes. He recognizes the familiar paint job of the vehicle parts that scatter along the ground. The chrome car bumper is charred as a fire spreads. _That's gonna be a bitch to fix._

He mashes another key, pulling up the footage from another camera. His breath hitches in his throat as he spots exactly who he had been looking for, lying in a crumpled heap behind a cement block.

He hesitates before speaking into his microphone. “Are you still with me, Michael?”

The apprehension muffles his brain as the seconds drag on, feeling like hours until he receives a reply.

“Here.”

Michael's voice is weak and Gavin has to fold one of his hands over the other to make them stop trembling.

“We're almost done, Michael. I promise. There aren't many baddies left.”

On the camera footage before his eyes, the lack of movement from a boy normally so energized makes his stomach tie into knots.

“Talk to me, Gavin,” Michael mumbles.

“I can see you, boy.”

A cough, followed by a reply. “How?”

“I'm watching through the security cameras. You know, these twats aren't exactly top-notch with their security system. It was simple to get into. You'd think one of the best gangs in Los Santos would have a better firewall.” Gavin breathes out a laugh, lacking sincerity and laced with emptiness.

“They're weak bitches,” Michael croaks. “How about us? How is the crew doing?”

“Everything's going smoothly,” Gavin lies through his teeth. “No reason to worry.”

Michael scoffs, sending him into a fit of raspy breathing. “About us? I'm not worried.”

Gavin winces and smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I want to come home, Gavvers.”

Gavin clenches his jaw, feeling a sharp pain spread all the way to his temples as his eyes begin to flood.

“You will, boy. You'll get home and we'll have a few drinks to celebrate.” The audible lie stabs him in the heart once it exits his mouth.

“You know what, Gav?” Michael whispers.

“What?”

“I'm gonna come home soon. We're gonna lock ourselves in our room and I'm gonna put on a dumb show for you. I'm gonna make you laugh real hard, Gav.”

The first tears begin to fall from Gavin's eyes. “Really, Michael?”

“Yeah, I'm gonna dance real bad. It'll be the worst foreplay you've ever experienced. You'll love it,” Michael breathes through Gavin's ear piece.

“Of course I'll love it,” Gavin assures him, “it's you, after all.”

They breathe in silence together. Gavin places his quivering fingers against Michael's horizontal form on his screen.

As if Michael can read his own thoughts, he whispers, “God, I'm scared, Gavin.”

“I can see you. I'm right here with you,” Gavin chokes through the thick feeling in his throat. He attempts to swallow it down but the ball only grows bigger. He breathes deeply.

“I'm coming home, I promise.”

“I know you are.”

Gavin's fingers shake as they stroke along the computer screen.

“It's almost over. I can feel it, Gavin.”

Gavin bows his head, letting tears splash onto his keyboard. They run down between the cracks in the keys.

He finds it difficult to understand the full depth of what is happening. While they work in an intense and fast-paced field of work, they're always careful. Each of them have gone through vigorous training and prepared for moments like these. Regardless, every job is stressful and filled with worry. Especially for Gavin, the hacker who typically mans the mission from behind microphones and computer screens. In his opinion, being away from the action is always worse than being in it. He's helpless from his location at their safehouse miles away from the firefight.

And here he is, in this moment, losing the one person who brightens his days and makes him feel whole.

“I love you, Michael,” he speaks through sobs.

“Don't cry. I love you t-too, boy...”

Gavin can hear his laboured breathing through his microphone. Michael splutters and coughs, wheezing as his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. The seconds drag on painfully until Gavin hears one last choke and the line goes heartbreakingly silent.

He sobs into his microphone, now knowing his cries are falling on deaf ears. He screeches into the silent room. The boy captured in the grainy footage on his computer screen doesn't move as his heart stops beating, taking Gavin's own heart with him.

He watches through eyes clouded over with tears. He slumps forward on his desk and whispers three lonely words into the somber silence.

“Hurry home, boy.”

 

_I wanna hurry home to you,_   
_Put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up._   
_So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain,_   
_God, I'm very, very **frightened**._

**Author's Note:**

> ...welp
> 
> i changed a lyric to make this work out better
> 
> you can shout at me via [tumblr!](http://jacktapillo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
